


Color Me Free

by RetroactiveCon



Series: Hold Tight to What You Love [2]
Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: M/M, Pride Parades, So Many Gender/Sexuality Headcanons, Trans Barry Allen, Trans Cisco Ramon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-23
Updated: 2019-12-23
Packaged: 2021-02-26 07:13:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,701
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21909511
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RetroactiveCon/pseuds/RetroactiveCon
Summary: “I think the parade is starting,” Len interrupts. “Shall we walk?”Uneasily, the STAR Labs crew and the Rogues mingle. Cisco falls in between Lisa and Hartley; Jesse scampers over to Shawna and Rosa and strikes up a cheerful conversation with them. To Barry’s astonishment, Dr. Stein falls into step with Mick and draws him into a lively conversation about the earliest Prides they attended. Len lingers at Barry’s side.
Relationships: Barry Allen/Leonard Snart
Series: Hold Tight to What You Love [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1571482
Comments: 14
Kudos: 211





	Color Me Free

**Author's Note:**

  * For [trinipedia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/trinipedia/gifts).



> I was asked to expand on this 'verse a little bit, which made me really happy because now I've gotten attached to trans!Barry. I'm sorry in advance for the slightly depressing tone - Barry's dysphoria and self-esteem issues are based on mine. Please don't keep reading if that will upset you!
> 
> The title is taken from Troye Sivan's song "Heaven."

Central City Pride is a joyous affair. Barry is given the day off by a surprisingly cheerful Captain Singh, who claps him on the shoulder and instructs him to enjoy himself. When he speeds to STAR Labs, he finds everyone in the midst of preparations. 

“Oh, look who decided to show up!” Cisco waves. He’s wearing a trans flag as a cape and a shirt in pansexual colors with the neurodivergent infinity symbol centered in the yellow stripe. “What, no CSI-ing today?”

“Nope, Singh told me the only place he wanted to see me was Pride.” Barry props himself against the wall and surveys the room. Caitlin has a tiny, glittery bisexual flag painted on her cheek (her agreement with Frost: as she’s straight and Frost is rather aggressively lesbian, they’ve settled on ‘bisexual’ to encompass both of them). At her side, Ronnie is wearing a shirt that says “I’m proud of my bi wife.” Dr. Stein and Jax are wearing, respectively, demisexual and gray-romantic colors. Jesse is wearing a shirt with the Flash’s lightning bolt done in trans flag colors (“they’ll just think I’m a fan!”), while Harry has a shirt clearly handmade by Cisco that proclaims: “Asexual, aromantic, asocial.” 

“Technically, asexual demiromantic,” Harry says upon seeing Barry’s inquisitive glance. “But Cisco thought the triple A’s had more ‘flair.’” 

“Yep, I said that!” Cisco agrees. He brings tubes of blue, pink, and white paint over to Barry. “Are you still up for what we discussed?”

Grinning, Barry strips off his shirt. Even after a year, it’s odd to look down and not see the scars from his top surgery. They healed while he was in the coma—his speed healing at work. Cisco calls him lucky; he almost misses them. Today, at least, the lack of them will be thoroughly covered with body paint. 

Fifteen painstaking minutes later, the trans flag spreads across his torso. Cisco pulls back to examine his work. “Not bad, if I do say so myself,” he pronounces. “Wally and Iris said they’d meet us there. Wally said something about stopping for chalk?” 

“Hair chalk. Works on dark hair, very vivid, washes out as soon as you’re done.” Barry has never used it, but Wally is incredibly fond of it. “We should go, we’re gonna be late to the kickoff!” 

“My dude, this is you we’re talking about. If you’re on time to something, it’s a sign of the impending apocalypse.” Cisco tucks the body paint, a small paintbrush, several cans of multicolored glitter, Vibe’s goggles and gauntlets, and a can of pepper spray into a satchel. In response to everyone’s bewildered stares, he says, “What? Now I’m prepared for makeup malfunctions, metahuman attacks, _and_ douchebag protesters! See, I think of everything.”

“Can I see some glitter?” Jesse asks. On the way to the door, she puts pink glitter along her cheekbones. With a grin, Ronnie tells her she looks “dashing.” Harry rolls his eyes; Jesse runs a happy lap of the hallway before skidding back to her father’s side. 

They make it downtown just in time. As arranged, Iris and Wally meet them by Jitters. Iris has her notepad with her, ready to report on the day’s goings-on; there’s a tiny pan flag pin at her collar. Wally’s hair is streaked with red, orange, yellow, and green; when Cisco asks what flag he’s representing, he mumbles, “I ran out of room for the other colors.” 

“No Eddie?” Barry asks. Iris shakes her head. 

“He said he’d feel out of place, but he wishes us all happy Pride and sends his support. Joe says the same, but he’s minding the office since they’re making Singh speak.” She casts Barry a dubious glance. “Are you going to get lectured about behavior befitting a CSI again?” 

He would cross his arms if he didn’t fear damaging his flag. “Singh told me to have fun. Anyway, the whole station knows I can’t be trusted to be decorous.” 

Wally snorts. Iris rolls her eyes. “All right, but if you get lectured, don’t complain to me.” 

“Decorum is overrated,” a familiar voice drawls. Barry whips around, heart in his throat. If he’d known the Rogues were going to be here, he might have foregone the body paint.

Leonard Snart stands amidst the Rogues, looking for all the world like a proud father. His arms are crossed over a “Pan with a plan” t-shirt; the cold gun is strapped to his thigh. At his side, Lisa is decked out in pan and trans colors, like Cisco. Like her brother, she carries her gun. 

“Are all of you armed?” Cisco asks, his tone verging on a whine. “I wanted one nice day…”

“We’re not here to _cause_ trouble,” Hartley says derisively. He’s swapped the green LEDs on his gauntlets for rainbow ones and has a tiny rainbow flag painted on his cheek. “We’re here to protect against it.” 

Mick, who’s wearing a pink triangle tank top and a “Fuck the police” baseball cap, rumbles, “I don’t trust pigs to protect these people. We’re here, we’re queer, and we’re pissed off.” 

“I say let them.” Of all the people Barry expected to speak, Dr. Stein wasn’t one of them. When everyone looks at him, he shrugs. “You’re all too young to remember, but the first Prides were contentious. Should pandemonium ensue, I can think of no one more fit to handle it than, to use Mr. Rory’s term, ‘pissed-off queer’ Rogues.” 

Mick grunts his approval. Hartley beams—he respects Dr. Stein and is always glad to earn his praise, however scant it might be. Shawna and Rosa, wearing trans and genderfluid colors respectively, hold up playful fists like they’re spoiling for a fight. Axel, whose shirt declares "I'm not a boy or a girl, I'm a fucking disaster", bounces and claps in a way that makes Barry want to join them. 

“I think the parade is starting,” Len interrupts. “Shall we walk?” 

Uneasily, the STAR Labs crew and the Rogues mingle. Cisco falls in between Lisa and Hartley; Jesse scampers over to Shawna and Rosa and strikes up a cheerful conversation with them. To Barry’s astonishment, Dr. Stein falls into step with Mick and draws him into a lively conversation about the earliest Prides they attended. Len lingers at Barry’s side. 

“Walk with me?” he invites. 

“Oh.” Once again, Barry resists the urge to hide his chest. He’d thought maybe—just maybe—he and Len stood half a chance as the thing between them morphed from enemies to…something else. Surely that chance is gone now. “Uh, sure.”

They walk in companionable silence until Len remarks, “You know, when I pictured getting to see you topless, I hadn’t counted on the body paint.”

Barry blushes to the tips of his ears. What exactly is he supposed to do with the admission that Len has thought about him topless? “…I don’t imagine you’ll keep picturing, now.” 

Len shoots him a bewildered sideways glance. “What do you mean?” 

“This—” He gestures at the flag on his chest. “—is typically a deal-breaker. It’s why I haven’t been responsive to…whatever’s been going on with us.” Accusing Len of flirting seems presumptuous, given that he hasn’t acted noticeably more flirtatious than can be attributed to his Captain Cold persona. “I didn’t want to lead you on and then be a disappointment.” 

“Disappointment?” Len demands. “What, for being trans?” 

Barry shrugs. He’s usually pleased about being cis-passing—it means he’s almost never harassed, mocked, or misgendered. It’s been havoc for his dating life, though; almost everyone who’s taken an interest in him loses that interest upon finding out. “That’s what people usually tell me.” 

“You are the furthest thing from a disappointment.” Len’s voice is firm—not his playful Captain Cold drawl, but low and strong as though he won’t tolerate disagreement. “And for the record, Barry, ‘whatever’s going on between us’ is interest, at least on my part.” As though he knows Barry won’t believe him, he reiterates, “I’m interested in you—you, Barry Allen, every aspect of you.”

Barry hasn’t blushed like this in a long time. “You mean that.” 

Len nods. His hand nudges against Barry’s, so casually Barry could take it for an accident. Instinctively, he laces their fingers together. Len glances down, smiling faintly. “So you’re interested too?”

Before he can overthink it, Barry nods. He’s been head-over-heels for Len for weeks and has had to repeatedly talk himself out of doing something rash. “Yes, yes, very much. I was just…nervous.” 

“Nervous?” Len drawls. “You?” A mocking but unspoken ‘The Flash, nervous?’ hangs between them. Barry ducks his head. Anyone can be brave when they know there won’t be lasting consequences—he takes his healing abilities for granted, and they make him bold. It’s different taking the first step when the consequences could have cost him someone dear. 

“Shut up,” he hisses. 

They walk in companionable silence. Behind them, Shawna, Rosa, Jesse, and Axel chant, “We’re here, we’re queer, get used to it!” Presently, Len remarks, 

“I’d like to kiss you.” 

“W-what?” Barry glances toward him, trips over his own foot, and almost falls on his face. Len steadies him with a hand on his waist. If that hand lingers once he’s got his balance again, Barry certainly isn’t going to complain. “Sorry, I’m very much not averse to that idea, just startled.” 

“I don’t know if I want an audience.” Len jerks his head at the Rogues behind them. Barry thinks of his friends’ likely reactions and has to suppress a wince. “But at some point today, I would like to kiss you.” 

“Uh.” Quite against his will, Barry’s eyes flick to Len’s lips. It’s not that he hasn’t imagined kissing Len before (he has, in a shameful amount of detail), but the imminence of the promised kiss makes his head reel. “Yeah, yes, I would like that. A kiss. With you.” 

It doesn’t take long for doubt to set in. He hadn’t meant it, Barry reasons, or at the very least he’ll think better of it when the time comes for the promised kiss. His mind helpfully supplies images of every past failed date (“liar,” “disgusting,” “you didn’t tell me you’re a girl”) that grow more intense with each step. 

There’s a sharp cry from behind him. Barry should turn to see what’s wrong, but he’s too locked in his head to move. When did that happen? 

“Allen. _Allen!”_

Harry’s voice jolts him free of the influx of bad memories. He whirls to face him and finds only chaos behind him. Shawna is crying on Jesse’s shoulder; Hartley is curled on the ground, both gauntleted hands pressed to his head as though trying to block out bad memories. Killer Frost is out, not Caitlin; she has an icicle in one hand and is scanning the crowd. 

“That was a psychic attack,” Barry realizes.

Harry nods. “Your colder half took off almost as soon as it happened. I don’t know where he is, but you should probably go find him.” 

Barry wanders through the crowd, looking for any hint of Len or the psychic meta. He encounters only marchers in various states of disorientation. Some, like Harry, seem only mildly affected; others, like Hartley or Shawna, were overwhelmed by the psychic attack. Barry has to fight down the urge to help each new person he comes across. If he can find the psychic meta, everyone should recover. 

When he finally spots Len, his heart almost stops. Len is on his knees in front of a metahuman dressed all in grey. The cold gun lays useless on the ground beside him. 

“Hey!” he yells. As soon as the words leave his mouth, he realizes he has no plan. If he uses his powers, he outs himself as the Flash to almost the entirety of Central City; if he doesn't, he stands no chance. “Over here!” 

The metahuman’s eyes snap up to him and her lips curl in disdain. “Disgusting,” she says, and Barry hears it as though it’s been called out of every bad memory he torments himself with when he’s alone. “How did you think you stood a chance against me, little one, when you’re so eager to turn against yourself?” 

Instead of others’ words, Barry remembers staring at himself in the mirror after the lightning strike, prodding at his suddenly defined musculature and feeling _wrong._ He was right then, he realizes: he’s an impostor, a false hero, pretty packaging for a _lie…_

“Shouldn’t have turned your back on me.” 

The thud of metal on bone snaps Barry out of his daze. Len stands above the metahuman, cold gun in hand and an icy look on his face. When the metahuman stirs, he raises the cold gun again, clearly to hit her. Barry interposes himself between them. 

“Len, Len, that’s enough. She’s down.”

Len’s expression doesn’t change. “Get out of the way, Barry.”

Barry is spared having to defend the metahuman any further by the timely appearance of Captain Singh, who’s brandishing a pair of power-dampening handcuffs and looking thoroughly disheartened. “One nice day,” Barry hears him mutter. “I just wanted one nice day.” 

Reluctantly, Len stands down and allows Singh to lead the metahuman away. Only once she’s gone does he say, “You shouldn’t have stopped me. People who target a crowd like this don’t deserve your protection.”

“Everyone deserves my protection,” Barry replies automatically. He sees the way Len’s lips thin and knows he disagrees. For once, though, he doesn’t argue, for which Barry is grateful. 

Given the relatively short distance to their destination, it’s decided the parade will go on. Barry and Len relay the news to their friends, most of whom are looking better than when Barry last saw them. Shawna, whose eyes are red and puffy, begs leave to go home. Len sends her away with a brief embrace and a whispered, “Take care of yourself, Boo.” 

“I’ll go with you,” Jax offers in a subdued tone. Both Ronnie and Dr. Stein reach out to him, but he shifts away. “Grey, Ronnie, I just…need some time.” 

Dr. Stein nods sympathetically. “You know, don’t you, Jefferson, that you will always be whole in my eyes, and in Ronald’s?” 

Jax lays a comforting hand on Shawna’s shoulder. “Yeah,” he affirms, “I know. I just gotta take some time to get my head on right.” 

Everyone else, for one reason or another, decides to stay. Cisco, Hartley, and Lisa join Rosa, Jesse, and Axel in shouting louder than before, “We’re here, we’re queer, you can’t get rid of us that easily!” Len makes the rounds, checking on all of his Rogues, before returning to Barry’s side. 

“You weren’t affected?” Barry murmurs. 

Len shrugs. “I was, but I could fight through it until she started to focus solely on me.” Barry can’t help feeling a pang of envy. He should have that same ability, but he’s not strong enough to fight through psychic attacks without help. Len must understand his distress, because he explains, “I’m a target for bigotry, Barry. I had to get tough to it or I’d never have survived.” 

Impulsively, Barry takes his hand. Len’s fingers splay out stiffly, but when Barry goes to pull back, he holds on. 

“I don’t mind. Just ask next time.” 

The end of the parade is somewhat more subdued than Barry expected. As soon as they reach the park, Harry bids everyone farewell and retreats. Cisco leaves not long thereafter with a mutter of “Too many people here”; Lisa goes with him. Iris quizzes Barry about the metahuman until he’s too tired to answer any more questions and has to retreat. 

“You know you can leave if you’re tired.”

Barry glances up. Len is watching him with a strange, appraising look, as though he can’t quite make sense of him. (In that regard, he’s like a lot of people in Barry’s life.) “I know,” he agrees. “I just kinda still want to be with people.” He doesn't explain that the last thing he wants is to be alone with the memories dredged up by the metahuman’s attack. Len must understand anyway. 

“I could take you for coffee.” 

Barry blushes. That sounds like an invitation to go on a date. He thought he’d ruined the new-budding thing between them with the standoff over the meta, but apparently that isn’t so. “I think Jitters is probably packed.”

Len frowns. “Fair point. I’d invite you back to mine, but that seems like a poor choice given our occupations.” His grin is toothy and fleeting. Barry smiles despite himself. 

“You already know where I live, so…”

Len arches an eyebrow. “I do. I thought good little boys waited for the third date before inviting someone into their home.”

Barry summons up his sunniest smile and jokes, “What, heists don’t count?” It pulls a startled, too-loud laugh from Len’s lips. Barry preens, far too proud of himself for having made his sometimes-nemesis laugh.

“I guess when you put it like that, kid.” He holds out his hand, palm up. Barry takes it and lets Len pull him up off the bench. 

“So.” The question melts on his tongue as soon as it forms. Surely that’s too presumptuous. Len offered to kiss him earlier—that much is undeniable—but even without their intervening standoff, he might have thought better of it. Barry shouldn’t even entertain the thought. 

“I’d be just as happy to kiss you now as I would be in your apartment.” Len’s free hand traces the lines of Barry’s cheekbone and jaw. Against his will, Barry finds himself melting into Len’s caresses. It hasn’t been that long since they were holding hands during the parade, but he feels as though he’s gone weeks without a gentle touch. “Just tell me when.”

“When,” Barry says without thinking. Len smiles, soft and fond and alarmingly intimate, and then he’s leaning forward and Barry’s thoughts turn to static. Kissing. He’s being kissed. Len knows what he is— _disaster trans speedster_ —and is still kissing him deep and slow and sweet. When they part, he raises his free hand to touch his lips. “Wow, you’re…”

“Well-practiced?” Len offers with a playfully lascivious smirk. 

“Allen.” Barry jumps and whirls around. He finds himself facing a decidedly exhausted Captain Singh and, behind him, Iris, who’s mouthing _I told you so._ “I can forgive the body paint and the confronting a metahuman without backup or weapons, but if you’re going to kiss Central City’s most wanted, can you please do it in private?” 

“I really wanted to not get lectured today…” he mutters. More loudly, he says, “Yes, sir.” 

In a low, heated voice, Len suggests, “I think that’s our cue.” Barry doesn’t quite stop a shiver at his tone. Len huffs a laugh against the shell of his ear. “Come on, Scarlet. Once we’re somewhere a little less crowded, I’ll let you run us.” 

As he’d probably hoped, this promise is enough to lift Barry’s spirits. Running has a way of putting a day into perspective; running with Len cheers him so that by the time they reach his apartment, he’s all but forgotten the chaos at the parade. The unexpected but entirely welcome kiss against the front door chases away any lingering doubts. 

“Uh.” Barry wants more than anything to press closer and let one kiss turn into several. Unfortunately, he feels it his duty to say, “I’m still covered in paint. Give me like a minute to clean up and then we can do whatever.” 

“Are you ‘whatever’, Scarlet?” Len sounds like he’s making the joke because it’s expected of him. Barry gives him the expected eye-roll and a quick peck on the lips. 

“I’m fine with kissing, but if you want sex, you have to buy me dinner first.” 

As it happens, ‘whatever’ involves trying to make extravagant, Jitters-like coffee confections (and making a mess of the kitchen). Once they’re content with their coffees, they migrate to the sofa and sit half-facing each other. 

“I’m sorry,” Barry says presently. 

“Sorry?” Len sips at his iced coffee. (He’d teased Barry that he intended to pass the recipe on to Jitters with the instruction that it be called ‘the Iced Flash.’) “Why?”

“For whatever that meta made you remember.” Barry mouths at the quickly-melting whipped cream on top of his drink. “You said you’ve gotten tough to most things, so…it must have been bad. You don’t need to tell me or anything, I’m just sorry.”

“I’m sorry for you, too, Scarlet.” Len’s hand settles comfortably on Barry’s knee. His skin is cool from holding the cold cup—Barry can feel it even through his jeans. “Whatever she showed you from your past, that isn’t how I see you. I want you to know that.” 

Barry can’t help how he lights up at Len’s praise. He must seem pathetic, he thinks with no small amount of self-reproach, but he can’t stop himself from asking, “How do you see me?” 

“As a scarlet pain in my ass,” Len replies, deadpan. Barry isn’t sure whether to laugh or recoil. Before he can decide, Len amends, “Really. I see you as the little scarlet speedster who turned my well-ordered life upside down and as the stubborn kid with the too-big heart who keeps insisting I can be better. You’re not a disappointment—you’re the furthest thing from it.” 

Barry preens at the unhesitating praise. “So you mean…if we, if this thing between us goes further, you’d want that? I wouldn’t be, y’know, making you?” 

“You can’t _make_ me do anything,” Len reminds him. Barry tilts his head, acknowledging the point. “And yes, Scarlet. I want to give ‘this thing between us’ a try, just see where it goes.” His gaze lingers on Barry’s mouth. Barry can’t tell whether he’s considering a kiss or whether he, like Barry, is averse to eye contact. 

“So if I ask for another kiss…?”

Len sets aside his coffee and sits forward. Barry has just enough time to set his mug on the end table before Len is in his space, warm and insistent. “I’d say yes,” he affirms once more before pulling him into a kiss.


End file.
